Corrupted
by amy amy amy
Summary: He stood up, blood dripping down his now very curved nose and leaking into his agape mouth, which he licked and then jumped after me. I ran like hell. Mello's POV.
1. Chapter 1

At first glance, it seemed like a normal day at Wammy's House. Perhaps _normal _isn't the most accurate word, considering that it is, afterall, an orphanage that educates gifted children. I woke with a groan at the blinding sunlight, which shafted directly through my bedroom window and onto me. I squinted and looked around the room, pausing to yawn and stretch. Matt was already wide awake, his face scrunched up in fustration as her played some pointless video game. I'll never understand him. He's third in line to surpass L - under me - and yet he wastes his intelligence on little _games_?

Anyway, there was nothing out of the ordinary that autumn morning in Winchester. I got dressed in my usual leather attire, and reached blindly under the bed for my stash of chocolate. It was only when I emerged from my room, that I noticed a change in the atmosphere. Instead of the usual bubbly, relaxed tone that was average for Wammy's, the house seemed... different. I must of made the assumption that everyone had chosen to sleep in, because I continued down the empty corridor. I regretted it almost instantly; where was everyone? Why was it so quiet and -- and why was the floor _wet_? I felt moisture beneath my shoes and looked down, my heart sank. The floor was coated thickly in blood. Then, as if on cue, I heard an indescribable sort of sound coming from Roger's office.

"Roger?" I called out and knocked on the door, "Are you alright?"

There was no reply. I threw open the door and stepped into his dimly lit office. Roger was wandering aimlessly around the room, until he noticed me in the door way. He moaned and shuffled forward, blank eyes in his dead, decaying face. "Roger! Talk to me!" I shouted. But he said nothing and stumbled forward, tripped and landed on his nose, breaking it. He stood up, blood dripping down his now very curved nose and leaking into his agape mouth, which he licked and then jumped after me.

I ran like hell.

"Get to the roof!" Was all I could scream to to the kids as I passed and charged down the corridor, not daring to look back. A few seconds later screams flooded the air, and soon the whole building was in panic. I felt somewhat relieved - they're not dead at least. I sprinted as fast as I could, my breath harsh in my throat as I reached a dead end. _Shit!_ I slammed into the doors at either side of me, banging and shouting. But they remained stubbornly shut. I turned to face him, standing just a few feet away. I braced myself for what was to come, comdemned to the same fate as Roger thinking _this is it, this is it, this is-_

**BANG.**

A clean hole was shot in his skull. He fell over, very dead. Matt stood behind him, shakily raising a revolved, smoke still rising from the barrel. His breathing was heavy and frantic, almost out of control. "Everyone's heading to the roof," he told me breathlessly, "let's go."


	2. Chapter 2

I didn't know what I was more concerned about. The fact that the orphanage had be overun by these _things_, or where the hell Matt had found a gun. And as he tugged violently on my arm, I didn't move. I _wouldn't_ move. I looked down at Rogers corpse which was strewn across the wooden floorboards, blood oozing from the bullet hole in the back of his head.

"He was dead before I shot him, y'know..." Matt whispered. I tore my eyes away from the mangled body at my feet and looked up at him.

"Exactly."

***

Roger wasn't the only one that that; they were everywhere. While they appeared injured, it was much more than that; they were dead. The creatures moaned with eager stomachs as they lurched for their possible meals and ripped them apart. Me and Matt sprinted towards the roof, passing kids who were already getting supplies and barcading the stairs. This was serious. And by now, the lingering smell of rotten flesh was almost unbearable. Turning a doorknob, I pushed open a heavy mahogany door and entered a dark room, greeted with stony silence. We stepped in and began digging blindly through mound of hastily stacked junk. My hands clumsily gropped the blackness until they found something; a crowbar. I grasped it tightly in both hands, my knuckles whitening. I was armed.

We ran back into the corridoor. The bookshelf they'd put in front of a stairway's door had fallen over, and a bony body shot through the doors chipping wood. Splinters stuck in it's flesh and they stared in horror, unable to move. I acted quickly and swung the crowbar at his head with all my strength. I heard the cracking of it's skull, as his head spilled blood and brains.

"I'm pretty sure you have to aim for the head," I told them simply.

We clambered up the last flight of stairs, burst through the door and onto the roof. The crisp early morning air brushed against our faces and we were greeted by the other twenty or so survivors. A few more people broke through the door after us, quickly slamming it shut and barcadding it.

Everybody tossed around ideas, but for a house of geniuses, they weren't so impressive. One suggested suicide, another considered going down the fire escape.

"You're forgetting the ones on the street," I muttered, dismissing that idea. I rattled my brain. Maybe we could fight them off, with a blunt instrument like the crowbar? No, that's stupid. Way too risky. I frowned and walked over to the edge, looking down at the ground below. The kids who I onced observed from the rooftop, were now all replaced with shambling undead. How did this happen?

"A zombie apocalypse!" Exclaimed Matt, stopping my train of thought. "I told you it would happen one day."

"Matt, this isn't one of your fucking games!" I hissed at him. "Zombies don't exist!"

"Oh, come on Mello!" Matt dug into his pockets for his cigarettes, 'cause this was getting way too weird. "You've seen the movies. They stumble around all emotionless and hungry, knocking into walls. And when they spot you, they chase you and try to bite your head off."

"So," I chuckled. "What you're saying, is that we've been overrun by thousands of Nears?"

Wait. Where _is_ Near?


End file.
